


Here's the mutiny I promised you

by isozyme



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Black Romance, Blood, F/F, Illustrated, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isozyme/pseuds/isozyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The only troll with you is Aradia Megido, who's a first lieutenant and only at your side because you needed someone to hold your clipboard.  You're the captain!</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's the mutiny I promised you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geekyclean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyclean/gifts).



[](http://imgur.com/vfdQ2)

You're on Eris II, and you got pinned down by enemy fire throughout the wee hours of the night, until dawn broke and now you're stuck. This alien sun is harsher even than the sun on Alternia, and your duffels with the UV-blocking ponchos are bivouacked five hundred meters away. The only troll with you is Aradia Megido, who's a first lieutenant and only at your side because you needed someone to hold your clipboard. You're the captain! You shouldn't even be here, but you wanted to see what the action was like, because you'd spent too much time on your fucking ship. You wanted to see something that wasn't on a two-inch wide display screen. It's just you two in an empty bunker, four concrete walls and the scant gear you brought in on your backs when you ran for cover.

The rest of your company is dead.

That's not strictly true. The rest of your company took shelter behind a wall instead of under a roof, and when the sun rose the bullets stopped, but so did all the radio chatter.

The rest of your company is _probably_ dead, and they need rescuing.

"Let's go, we can make it," you say. You're Vriska Serket, and Megido has some boss telekinesis, which is why she's on this mission at all. She could probably float an awning of brick and rock over the both of you far enough to see if everyone is dead or not.

Megido looks critically at you. Your left arm isn't moving so well, and you can't be sure if the gash on your left eyebrow reaches down to your eye or if the blood has just glued it shut, but it hurts enough to be either.

"We can make it," you repeat. "Pick up some of these rocks and shit and dangle them over our heads, so we can see if those idiots out there are crispy bacon, and if they are we can run like little twitchy cowards for the ship, and if they aren't we can grab them and run like twitchy little cowards for the ship anyway."

This is a stellar plan, but Megido sits down in the dust and doesn't move at all. You're ready to kick her when the world goes a little swimmy, so you have to lean against the wall. You settle for shouting. "I order you to pick up some fucking rocks and get us out to the rest of the company!"

"I don't intend to die for you," Megido says, finally. She's so calm. "Sir."

You snarl at her, because the rest of the company has already died for you, and it's her job to do it too! You're probably going to die here, but whatever. Life's an adventure. You have to live it hard.

When she snarls back, you can see her perfect teeth, bright white and strong, not thin and pointed like the seadweller admirals. You met Aradia Megido two weeks ago, when they shoved her resume in front of her nose and you took in _Blood: Maroon_ and _Psionics: Telekinesis, Class 10_ and decided that if she hadn't been tossed into a helmsblock yet, she'd be requisitioned soon, so you might as well forget any position with options for advancement.

You _hate_ when the empire makes holes in your line of command. This is a moot point anyway, because the inhabitants of Eris II have taken your line of command and burnt most of it to a crisp. 

You're going to miss the wall's support, but you walk over to Megido and loom over her, dripping cerulean blood on her dusty boots. "You will do whatever I tell you, Lieutenant." If she doesn't listen to you you're going to flip off the sandy, bullet-pocked handle and when you land you're going to bash her lovely teeth in with the butt of your rifle.

"I don't intend to die for _anyone,_ " she says, and rises all at once in a violent rush, getting her claws fisted in your jacket over your busted up arm, which _hurts,_ so you shout in her face and swing your rifle right up which catches her in the chin. It makes her head snap back and her teeth click together.

She falls back and hacks an ugly cough and you wonder if any of the shrapnel that's fucked you up got to her, so you lean forward a bit to see, letting your rifle fall, because you need all your assets in top performing shape and right now your assets are one right arm, a jammed rifle, and this stubborn bitch of a lowblood, who might be coughing up blood.

This is a mistake. She's got all that Class 10 Telekinesis, just waiting to be used. Nothing short of a grievous head injury shorts that shit out. She sweeps the feet out from under by throwing a concrete block at your ankles and rushes forward, all horns, and you fall hard and try to catch yourself on your bad arm.

Wrong move, Serket.

Everything whites out for a little while.

When your vision comes back Megido's planted herself firmly on your chest. She's dense like a sandbag. You let your head loll back for a moment to assess the warmth radiating out of her bum and through the thin material of your undershirt, making the humid heat of the bunker somewhat unbearable. She's stripped your uniform's jacket and pants off, standard procedure to check for damage in a wounded comrade, and you're pretty sure your arm looks bad.

"We aren't going anywhere," Megido says. "We're going to wait here, patiently, and you're going to sit tight."

You pull your mess-knife from the waistband of your underwear with your good hand and get it resting snug against the place where her thigh joins her hip, where her femoral artery is. "They might still be alive," you say. "Get off." You have all the luck! This can't be happening to you. Your company's the golden girls of the fleet; you can do no wrong. 

Megido shifts her weight away from the knife real slow, and you scramble up as soon as you can to where you can crouch against the wall. "You're not in charge, Captain," Megido says, standing just out of reach of your tiny little knife; it's hardly sharp enough for apple peeling, let alone for commanding a high-level psionic to lead you on a near-suicidal rescue mission.

"The fuck I'm not!" you say.

She swarms right up to you, again, and too fast for you to react she has your knife out of your hand and her forearm like a hard bar against your throat. "Surrender, Captain," she says.

You can feel all her warm curves pressing into you and you're not wearing much--standard-issue briefs and a thin undershirt. She's cloyingly hot and angry and she smells like dirt and fear-sweat and your blue blood. Despite the danger and the sickening pain, your bulge perks up. This is not the time. It's painfully obvious in your current state of undress, but Megido doesn't back off, just presses in a little harder and bares all those perfect teeth at you again. She is much better at this than you.

You laugh, a last-ditch fear-filled ugly bark of a laugh, and kiss her. Her lips are cracked and dry but they part quickly and her mouth is hot and wet and tastes like metal. It tastes like shrapnel sinking into your shoulder. It tastes like self-sacrifice. Her arm disappears from your neck and instead she uses both hands to hold you against the wall. You throw a knee up between her legs, trying to catch her unawares in a weak spot, but she catches it and twists you, deftly, so your hips are pressing against the wall and your bad arm scrapes up against the concrete.

"What do you want?" you ask, your lips against her lips, her breath fogging your busted-up glasses.

Aradia Megido holds your skull in her hands like an eggshell. Your blood has smeared against the patch on her lapel, painting her hatch-sign in command cerulean. It looks right.

"I want to win," she says, and you believe her.


End file.
